


I Need a Hero

by Strange and Intoxicating -rsa- (strangeandintoxicating)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Embarrassment, M/M, Matt needs to get slapped silly, Prostitution Mentioned (but not described and not really), These two are dorks, We're pro-sex worker in this house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24898504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeandintoxicating/pseuds/Strange%20and%20Intoxicating%20-rsa-
Summary: Takashi Shirogane, occupant of Apartment 22B, was absolutely and unconditionally infatuated with the alluring, mysterious man in 24B. He came home every night with kohl-smudged eyes and glitter in his hair, and Shironeededto know more.Shiro didn't care if he was a hooker or stripper or whatever—he just wanted to know who Keithwas.(Hint: Keith's a Disney Princess.)
Relationships: Background Mentions of Lance/Lotor/Allura, Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Mentions of past Shiro/Adam - Relationship
Comments: 35
Kudos: 200





	1. Chapter 1

Takashi Shirogane, occupant of Apartment 22B, was absolutely and unconditionally infatuated with the alluring, mysterious man in 24B.

It started with a jingle of keys at two in the morning nearly two months before, but since then, Shiro was hooked.

Shiro had been half-asleep, the last of his Red Bull leaving an overly-sweet coating in the back of his mouth but doing damn-near nothing for waking him up. He had six more pages of his Ph.D thesis to finish editing, but he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t going to happen without another hit of some type of caffeinated liquid being IVed into his arm.

Shiro knew that had been his last can of Red Bull—he’d even left a little pink post-it on the cover of his MacBook _and_ the fridge to pick more up.

At first, Shiro thought about just getting an ultra-strong pot of coffee going, but when he opened up the plastic container...

Nothing. 

Fucking _nothing_.

Shiro remembered staring at Matt’s door so hard he was pretty sure his eyes would burn a hole right through it had just a _little_ more energy. 

But, well, even blinking at the door made Shiro want to cry. 

God, all he wanted to do was sleep, but...

Fuck. Fine. 

After three minutes slumped over the coffee machine, staring at the seconds tick by on the clock, Shiro mustered enough energy to push himself off the counter. 

It was a small miracle that Shiro managed to get both shoes on, and after resting his head on his front door for a minute, he began the arduous process of unbolting the three locks. 

The closest bodega was about two and a half blocks away, and if he was quick and the cold air didn’t kill him, Shiro could slam the entire Red Bull before he got back to the apartment AND not lose any more time.

Shiro had been so busy that he barely registered the jingle of keys that most definitely weren’t his before he managed the last lock and swung the door open, coming face to face with the most beautiful man Shiro had ever seen.

Well, face to chest, but...

Same difference.

The first thing Shiro registered was the hair—long, lustrous black locks littered with little slivers of glitter that, when hit with the dim light from Shiro’s apartment, made it look as though they were _glowing_. 

Next were the eyes—dark, mysterious, alluring, and so blue they almost looked purple. Kohl-rimmed and smudged, Shiro was so close could see the heavy-winged eyeliner that began to crack and the remnants of blue and silver eyeshadow clinging to his lids. 

And yeah, it was definitely a man—a beautiful man that wore both his feminine and masculine attributes with ambiguity and beauty, but that wasn’t it. 

No, it was the deep, “What the fuck?” and the fist that connected with his stomach that cemented it for Shiro.

“Owwwww.”

Shiro was lucky he landed against his door and knocked it open, shining light from the hallway into his apartment. 

“Oh my god! Fuck! I’m so sorry!”

Shiro only coughed in response, all of the tiredness rushing out of his body as the adrenaline kicked in, because, well—

“Owwwwww.”

Beautiful man had a mean right hook, _fuck_.

Shiro felt warm hands on his face, his arms, and thankfully they weren’t pummeling him to a pulp.

His attacker was babbling now, and Shiro could only manage to catch a few words— “so sorry—“ and “some guy followed me from work—“ along with an obvious “wrong apartment—“ and another “so, so sorry” before Shiro managed to pull himself up on the door with his assailant’s help, managing to get himself into his apartment and onto the couch. 

Shiro was pretty sure that if he wasn’t half-dead on his feet and had been expecting a wallop, he wouldn’t have gone down like a sack of potatoes, but...

At least the beautiful man hadn’t kept punching him.

The punch had acted like an alarm clock in Shiro’s head (and... other regions...) and now Shiro was as alert as he would have been with the Red Bull.

Still—

“Ow.”

The beautiful man with the glitter in his hair stared at him, hand still gripping his keys—Shiro was thankful that wasn’t the hand that punched him—before he said another “I’m so sorry—I live in 24B. My door sucks and the key always jams. We have the same doormat. I didn’t think—“

“It’s okay,” Shiro said as he rubbed his stomach. He was pretty sure there was going to be a bruise, but the hit was really more of a shock to the system than anything else. 

“I’m so sorry—“

“No more apologies—it’s okay. _Really_.” 

Shiro could see the panic on the other man’s face, shining just as brightly as the glitter and the bright red lipstick that was beginning to crumble off his lips. 

Shiro was a lot of things, but dumb wasn’t one of them. Having been living in LA for as long as he had and having sampled the nightlife, what the man had said clicked some things into place.

“Someone followed you home?”

“Yeah. Sometimes the dads get a little...” he trailed off, looking away. 

It didn’t matter what his neighbor did as a job—sex work or not. 

A wave of protectiveness washed through Shiro as he pushed himself off the couch, easing the other man down into it. “You think one of these, uh, dads followed you back?” The word felt weird in Shiro’s mouth—Daddy he could get, even John, but his terminology wasn’t all that great with the sex industry since the most he’d ever done was watch some porn.

“Y—yeah.”

Shiro nodded and then leaned down to look his neighbor in the eye. “Here—“ Shiro held out his hand, “I’ll go check your place, if you want?”

A flash of something crossed the man’s face and he licked his bottom lip as his eyes looked up and down Shiro’s face.

“I’ve already inconvenienced you enough—“

“Don’t be silly,” Shiro insisted, holding out his hand for the man to take. “What are neighbors for?”

Thankfully, for both Shiro and his neighbor, when they went into 24B with Shiro wielding one of Matt’s baseball bats, there was no one there except a fluffy black Pomeranian that went for Shiro’s toes the minute he walked in the door. 

“Kosmo—no!”

Kosmo stared up at Shiro with a level of gumption Shiro didn’t know animals could possess, before turning and trotting off back into the living room.

Shiro took a look around the room—it was identical in size and layout as his and Matt’s apartment, though the decorating was by far more tasteful than the bare beige walls and ugly blue couch Matt stole from his parent’s basement. 

“My friend’s studying interior design,” the man explained as Shiro lifted up a set of floor-length petal-pink curtains to check that the patio door was still firmly locked.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Shiro said playfully, enjoying the way his neighbor softly smiled as he brushed some of his dark hair from his eyes. 

It would have been nice to run his fingers through that hair, Shiro mused for a moment before going back to looking through the apartment. 

Luckily, there wasn’t anyone lurking behind the shower curtain or under the bed, and though Shiro knew it wasn’t any of his business, it was kind of surprising how _normal_ it all looked. 

_Guess I shouldn’t make assumptions about sex workers,_ Shiro thought as he smiled at his neighbor. 

“Man, I feel stupid,” the man said as he tossed down an oversized bag onto his couch next to where the dog was sleeping. “I dragged you out of bed and punched you, and there wasn’t even anyone here.”

“Hey, that’s a good thing. Better to be cautious than dead,” Shiro remarked as he leaned a little on his baseball bat. 

“Still—I woke you up, punched you, and will probably end up as the dick neighbor you hate...”

“You’re okay, I promise,” Shiro said with a laugh. He could feel the slight buzz of the adrenaline beginning to wear off, signaling that Shiro needed to get to the convenience store before he fell on his face. “And anyway, you didn’t wake me up. I need to finish my essay and ran out of energy drinks.”

“Oh! You like Red Bull?” The man tossed his messy braid over his shoulder as he moved from one foot to the other, as though he were waiting for Shiro to yell at him. “I, uh, have a case of it in my fridge. I can just give you some—you know, for punching you and all...”

Shiro looked at the man, at his dark lashes that swept across his skin when he blinked. Shiro had never, in his entire 25 years on Earth, seen such a beautiful person. 

“Um—well, if you don’t mind.”

The man smiled wide enough to make Shiro swallow. What a nice smile—and lips.... and mouth. 

_And just looking at him is making me hard,_ Shiro thought as he tried the best he could to adjust himself without his neighbor catching on. With a guy this beautiful and with the job he had... there wasn’t any reason to make him feel uncomfortable in his own home by popping a boner. 

Shiro had class—even at two in the morning. 

“Nope, I don’t mind at all. You can, uh, have a seat. Preferably not next to Kosmo—he thinks he’s a wolf, I swear.”

Shiro looked at the sleeping dog, at his cute little snout and the drool making its way into the pink seat cushion. 

As if on cue, the Pomeranian opened one eye and _growled_ enough for Shiro to lean a little further away, laughing nervously. 

“Probably for the best, yeah.”

Shiro instead sat down in a very comfortable shade recliner, though he found himself slouching forward instead of leaning back. It felt almost—impolite?— to lean back. This wasn’t his house, and it wasn’t even really like he was invited in.

“Okay—I’ve got that new peach stuff, the sugar free, and regular.”

“Oh, uh, the regular one is fine. I just need to get through six more pages of this Astronomy stuff before I crash.” 

The man’s eyes lit up. “Astronomy, huh?”

Shiro managed a nod and was lucky his head didn’t pop off. 

“Yeah—Ph.D student. I’m studying black holes and the unification of quantum mechanics and the information paradox. Um, basically—“

“You’re looking into what happens to data that is swallowed by black holes.”

Shiro’s mouth fell open.

His neighbor laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “What can I say? I’m kind of a space nerd. Not that that’s a bad thing,” he added quickly. “I’ve just always liked that sort of thing.”

“I wouldn’t have expected it,” Shiro admitted. Usually the kind of people who were into astronomy were, well... nerds. Nerds who _looked_ like nerds. This beautiful man with his dark hair and too-blue eyes wasn’t what he was expecting at _all_.

“Yeah—the glitter makes it hard to seen serious.” The man’s cheeks pinked before he spun around, shaking his head. 

“Anyway, that Red Bull. Yeah. Lemme get you that. You know, bribery for not calling the cops.”

Shiro knew that he probably looked crazy, slumped over in his neighbors’s suede chair, grinning like a doofus, but he couldn’t summon the energy to care. 

Literally—the only thing keeping him from falling backward was a black poofball that would have eaten him alive if he moved too quickly and the baseball bat he was using as a crutch.

His neighbor disappeared into the nearby kitchen, his disembodied voice following. “You have any allergies?”

“No,” Shiro yelled back. “Why?”

“How many of these cans have you already had?”

Shiro looked down. “Uhhhh. Two?”

His neighbor popped head from around the kitchen entrance, nearly giving Shiro a heart attack. “Which means six.”

“Four,” Shiro admitted sheepishly. 

The man nodded thoughtfully before dangling a Whole Foods shopping bag out for Shiro. “I threw something in there. Last thing you need to do is burn a hole through your stomach.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Shiro said as he forced himself out of the chair, back protesting and cracking loud enough for both his neighbor _and_ the dog to hear. 

“Consider it payment for services rendered, old timer,” the man jested. 

“I’m not _that_ old.”

“I’m sure you’re not. That little gray floof just gives you character.”

Shiro laughed as he reached up to play with his “floof”. 

“I’ll have you know that this little floof and I go _way_ back—“ Shiro paused. 

“Keith,” the man—Keith—supplied. “My name’s Keith.”

Keith. If felt _good_ in Shiro’s mouth. 

“Well, Keith. I’m Shiro.” 

“For the white hair?” Keith cocked an eyebrow, making Shiro laugh. 

“My last name’s Shirogane.”

“Well, Mister Shirogane and his little gray floof, thank you. Really.” There was so much sincerity in his voice that Shiro was taken a little aback. “Most people would’ve just called the cops.”

“Well, good thing I’m not most people.” Shiro took the offered Whole Foods bag with a smile. “If you ever need anything, I live just a door down, okay?”

Keith smiled. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

When Shiro got back into his apartment, he opened the bag to find two cans of Red Bull and a big bag of unopened Disney trail mix. 

He smiled all night.


	2. Chapter 2

It was two weeks until Shiro was able to catch a glimpse of his beautiful neighbor—Keith, Shiro reminded himself—again. 

Part of that was that their schedules seemed to be constantly out of sync; Shiro heard the man coming back to his apartment a few times, super late at night, but he hadn’t had the courage except to stand anxiously in his living room, kind of hoping that Keith would knock on his door to ask for his Whole Foods bag back. 

But, well, most of the issue was _Matt_. Rather, what Matt had said the next day. 

After the fiasco that night had been, Shiro somehow managed to get through the last six pages of his edits. He killed the entire bag of trail mix in one go, but took his neighbor’s words to heart and only drank one of the cans of Red Bull. 

He managed to send off his email to Doctor Holt before the 7:00 am deadline, and didn’t even bother to take off his pants when he crawled into bed, praying to every god there was that he could just _sleep_.

Somehow, someway, Shiro slept until 5 that night, only waking up long enough to throw the empty coffee can at Matt’s head as he grabbed three of Matt’s tacos and a burrito shell, wrapping them together to make it easier to shove into his face.

“That’s disgusting,” Matt said as he hunched over his plate of tacos, guarding Shiro from grabbing another. He was sitting at what little of the kitchen table _didn’t_ have paperwork and textbooks piled up, though the computer sprawled open with an online sky tracker showed Matt was still hard at work. 

Shiro could only blearily blink at his roommate, shoving a little under half of the monster taco-burrito into his face.

Matt grimaced. “How’re you ever gunna find yourself a man if you can’t even eat like a normal human being.” 

“Y’f wan t’ ‘alk,” Shiro said between chewing, enjoying the way Matt made a sound between gagging and laughing.

“Disgusting—just disgusting. I don’t know how I live with you. Didn’t my mother teach you better manners than—than— _that_?” 

Shiro only smirked in response, making sure to show his burrito-covered teeth. Having been best friends for most of their lives, Shiro was sure he _had_ been taught the same manners from Mrs. Holt as Matt had gotten, those had stuck while Matt’s… hadn’t. 

_Even if I don’t use them all the time._

Still, Shiro made sure to swallow his bite before saying, “Then don’t finish the coffee when I have to finish writing my thesis.” 

Matt rolled his eyes, leaning away from his tacos. “Y’know, you could’ve just asked for an extension—you know he would’ve given it to you.” 

Shiro shook his head. He’d spent his entire life looking up to Doctor Holt. His passion, the spark that set him into studying Astronomy, was in part due to Doctor Holt teaching Matt and him how to name the constellations in his backyard with the homemade telescope they’d made back in fourth grade. Maybe that was why Shiro never wanted Doctor Holt to think that he was getting lazy on him, not after all of those years of helping him. 

It felt a little silly, considering the fact that Shiro _knew_ he was one of the best Ph.D students in the country, but he never wanted anyone to think that Doctor Holt was easy on him just because of their extensive history together. 

“Nepotism—” 

“Is a bitch, I _know_.” Matt rolled his eyes, lifting up one of his tacos. “But it’s not nepotism when he would do it for anybody, especially someone whose got such a big workload as you. With the project and everything going on with Douche Canoe…” 

Shiro sighed and forced himself to take another bite of his burrito despite his stomach curling into knots.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I know—no talking about _him_ during dinner time.” 

_Or **any** time,_ Shiro wanted to add, but resisted. 

Talking about his ex was a big, big no-go.

Still, Matt was always the kind of guy to dig in when he smelled fresh blood, so Shiro knew what was coming. 

“Speaking of Douche Canoe—did he ever bring back your Celestron Nexstar?”

Shiro threw the remains of his burrito onto Matt’s plate. 

“No.”

“No he didn’t, or—“

“We’re not doing this, Matt,” Shiro said firmly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I know what you’re doing—“

“Shiro—“

“Don’t ‘Shiro’ me. I don’t want to talk about it.” And Shiro really, truly _didn’t_. He didn’t want to talk about his ex, because talking about him breathed life back into him, and as far as Shiro cared, his ex died the night Shiro walked in on him and some rando from the club. 

“But keeping it all in just makes it worse—“

“Nope.” Shiro hoped his bluntness would stop Matt from prying, but it wouldn’t have been Matt without crossing boundaries and comfort-zones. 

“I don’t see why you won’t at least let me leave a dead fish in his car.”

While the thought was appealing, if Shiro were honest with himself, he didn’t care enough to be angry. Their relationship had been on a crash-course with the fucking sun for a while; it wasn’t surprising to walk in on him with another guy. 

Shiro cared too much about his work, about his future, and not enough for a man who couldn’t keep his wandering hands to himself. 

“Look,” Shiro promised, watching as Matt nudged the half-eaten taco-burrito to the edge of his plate, “life is way too short to be miserable.”

Matt stared at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Who did you meet.”

It wasn’t a question. 

Damn.

Shiro pursed his lips, but he knew it was too late. Covering up would’ve done no good, because he could feel his face heating up from his throat to the tips of his ears. 

“Oh! Oh! Ohhhhh—you got lucky?!”

“I didn’t get lucky—“

“With who? Who?” Matt sat up straighter, entire body moving with giddy excitement. “That guy from your 113 class?”

Shiro blinked. “Who?”

Matt waved away the question. “Never mind—is it uh, uh—that guy with the good hair? Logan?”

“Lotor?”

“Yeah—the pretty one from the Physics department.” 

Shiro sighed, crossing his arms in front of him. “No. He’s dating Coran’s tech assistant—you know, Peter Pan.” Considering their proximity to Disneyland, it wasn’t all that uncommon for students to take part time jobs with the Big Mouse. 

Matt screwed up his face. “Lance? Really? Poor Pidge, she’s had a thing for his pointy-ass face for years.”

“Yeah—I have no idea what Pidge sees in him, but… no.” Pursing his lips for a moment, Shiro thought about telling Matt about Keith. Even thinking his name made his cheeks heat up and a smile to tug at his lips.

“Oh, dude. You got it so bad.” There was teasing in Matt’s tone, but Shiro could hear the relief there, too. After what happened with his ex, things were hard for Shiro. He’d been pretty sure he wasn’t going to date or even think about sex until his thesis was done, but…

“C’mon, you gotta let me know who it is. You can’t leave me like this with all these _questions_. I won’t judge, I promise.”

 _Fuck it_ , Shiro thought as he said, without pause, “You know that neighbor?”

Matt’s face went blank. “Mr. Slav? The agoraphobe with like ten cats?”

The look that Shiro sent could’ve withered a cactus. “No. Not Slav. Uh… the one in 24B?”

Matt laughed momentarily before blinking once, twice, and—

“Oh.”

Shiro regretted it immediately. 

“Oh, Shiro…. _no_.” Matt stared at him with honest to god _pity_. “I know Douche Canoe did a number on you, but you don’t need to, you know, for sex.”

If Shiro hadn’t already thrown his burrito at Matt’s head, he would’ve done it then. “You don’t even know him, Matt.”

Matt raised his hands up in surrender. “I’m not saying anything bad, Shiro. I’m _not_. You know I’m all for doing your own thing. Your body, your choice and all that. But, like… Shiro, my man. My best friend. My better half—“

“Your only half,” Shiro mumbled under his breath.

“—you haven’t seen the lines of guys that’re always stopping by that place. I get that work is work, but… do you really need that kind of hot mess in your life right now?”

Shiro felt himself deflate. After everything that happened, Shiro really just needed to focus on his class work and _not_ think about the beautiful and alluring man in 24B. 

“How did you even meet him? Or is this like you looking through his windows at night or something?”

Explaining that his sex worker next door neighbor tried to break into their apartment, punching Shiro in the stomach seemed a little… _much_. So, instead, Shiro mumbled something about trash, which at least made Matt just sigh again before nudging his plate of tacos closer to Shiro. 

“I think you need these more than I do.”


	3. Chapter 3

Maybe it was Matt’s no judgment but still-kinda judgment that kept Shiro from just knocking on Keith’s door, or maybe it was just his own dumb hang ups. Still, it did take two weeks to see Keith again, but when he did—

God, he looked fucking _gorgeous_. 

It was about noon on a Tuesday, and Shiro had just managed to finish grading all of his midterms. Doctor Holt had sent him home, telling him to take the day off and relax—catch a movie, play some brain-rotting video games, binge-watch The Witcher to see Henry Cavill’s abs, all those good things. 

If Shiro were honest with himself, he needed it. The thesis was wearing him down, and he knew that if he didn’t turn off his brain he was going to end up burning out. 

It was pure chance that Shiro got to his apartment just as Keith was leaving. 

_Shit_ , Shiro thought as he glanced at Keith. His makeup, rather than the still-beautiful but worn style Shiro had seen before, was simply impeccable. Dark kohl-rimmed eyes, luscious red lips, teal and silver eyeshadow, arched brows— Keith looked like he had stepped off the runway (or out one of Shiro’s naughty dreams) and right into their shared hallway. 

“Oh, hey!” 

“Hi yourself,” Shiro replied, unsure of what to say or do now. 

There was an awkward pause as Keith pulled his keys out of his door, jingling the knob to make sure it was locked, but when he turned back to Shiro, his radiating smile seemed to melt right through the ice. 

“It’s great to see you’re still alive—I was kinda worried I may have killed you with those energy drinks.” 

“Oh, no! I’m good, I swear.”

“Kinda figures, y’know, from the lack of decomposition.”

Shiro laughed. “Ah, yeah. I imagine the smell would’ve been a tell.”

“From a mile away,” Keith added. “My parents had a farm. Mice were always the worst because they could be _anywhere_ , but I imagine it’d be pretty much the same.”

“Farm?” Shiro couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice. From everything that Shiro had seen from his quick check of Keith’s apartment, nothing really screamed ‘farmboy’ to him.

Keith blinked, smile fading just a bit. “What—you a city boy?” Despite his gruff words, it sounded almost… _teasing_. 

“Born and bred,” Shiro admitted, resisting the urge to ask Keith more about his childhood on a farm. It didn’t really match the city-slick man in front of him. “You?”

“Montana, originally. My mom’s family runs an autoshop near Inglewood, though.” 

Shiro almost asked if Keith was good with his hands, but he managed to bite his tongue just in time not to make himself look like a total disgusting pervert in front of his gorgeous neighbor. 

So, instead, Shiro replied with, “Oh. That’s nice. You… you uh, like cars, then?”

“Yeah.” 

“Did you come to LA for the cars, or…” 

Keith reached up to pull at his duffle bag, shrugging his shoulder. “Yeah, I guess…” Keith moved from one foot to the other, shifting back and forth for a moment. “Other things, too, you know… crappy exes, no job prospects… I’m sure you get it. Well, some of it.”

“No, no,” Shiro exclaimed, trying to keep his voice from rising to a fever-pitch. “I totally get it. Trust me, I do. Especially about the exes thing.” 

“Any scary ex-girlfriends lurking with baseball bats in the parking lot?” Keith asked.

“Uh, no.” Shiro tried to keep himself from panic-giggling like a lovestruck teenager, instead rubbing at the back of his neck with a half-chuckle.

“Ex-boyfriend, maybe?” 

That did get Shiro to make a sound. “Yeah. Definitely could say that. Though ex-fiance might be a bit closer.”

Keith winced. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be. I’m not.” 

Shiro wasn’t sure if Keith winked at him or blinked, but Shiro found his breath catching in his throat, blood running down, down… 

_Nope. No, no, no. No getting hard in the middle of the hallway. No, no, no,_ Shiro chanted in his head as he stared at Keith. 

“Well… good.” Keith’s face went soft for just a moment before the sound of a very well-known tune broke the silence.

_Darling it’s better, down where it’s wetter, take it from meeeeeee—_

“Oh, shit. S—sorry,” Shiro said, holding up his hands, keys jingling. “You’ve probably got somewhere to be, yeah?” 

Keith quickly nodded his head, a few strands of dark hair falling in front of his eyes as he fished his phone out of his pocket, slamming his finger against his screen. “Yeah. You know… got to make money and all that.” 

“Yeah, I totally get it. Um. I hope you have a good night— uh, day— at work. Don’t, uh, let any of those ‘dads’ bother you, but if they do… I’m right here.” 

For a moment, Shiro though he’s said something wrong; Keith’s brows furrowed before giving a soft smile and nod that made Shiro’s heart flutter. “I’ll do my best. Can’t exactly start a fist-fight, y’know.” 

“Well, at least I know that if it came down to it, you’ve got a really good right-hook. Very scrappy.” 

That got Keith to laugh, and it was one of the most beautiful sounds that Shiro had ever heard. “Well, aren’t you a flatterer.” 

“I do my best.” Then, Shiro added, “But if you have anything you need, any problems…” 

“22B’s very handsome astronomer will be there to save the day— Shiro the hero.” 

Shiro would’ve swooned if Keith wasn’t looking right at him. 

Instead, Shiro had to stop himself from cursing as he felt his entire face heat up. He managed to mumble something— what he mumbled, who the hell knew— before Keith hoisted his bag one more time and fucking _winked_ at Shiro as he gave a half-wave at Shiro’s unmoving form.

“See you, Hero.” 

Shiro was thankful that Matt at least waited for Keith to get down the stairs to swing open the front door.

“Shiro the hero, huh?” Matt quipped, leaning against the doorway. “You’re so fucked, buddy.” 

And yes… Shiro really, really was. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

The next time Shiro saw the gorgeous man— Keith— from 24B, it couldn’t have been under _worse_ circumstances. 

The week had been awful in a way that Shiro could barely fathom, beginning with Doctor Holt returning his thesis with so many red marks it looked like he’d cut his hands with his pen, followed with a student demanding a better grade because his father was on the board, and ending with— well.

_This_.

“Baby—” 

“You lost the right to call me ‘baby’ when you fucked that guy from the club in our _bed_ , Adam,” Shiro seethed, feeling all of that anger and rage bubbling up to the surface. “Go fuck yourself. We’re over.” 

Shiro slammed the door in Adam’s face, jamming the lock closed with shaking hands. His lungs burned, his hands ached, his entire body was shaking, but— 

“Go away!” 

_ Bang. Bang. Bang _

“Shiro! Open this _fucking_ door—” 

“Fuck you! Leave me alone!”

He hadn’t been expecting Adam to be waiting at the front of his apartment when he got back. In fact, Shiro didn’t think he’d _ever_ see Adam again after that mess with the rando from the club. 

But Adam had been waiting there, flowers in hand and a sad, forlorn look plastered over his face, and Shiro’s throat tightened as Adam thrust the flowers out for him to take. 

But Shiro wasn’t playing this game— not today, not tomorrow, not _ever_. 

“Shiro!” Adam pleaded and begged, “Please let me in. Let me explain— I love you.” 

“No!” 

_ No. No, I’m not going to do this. I’m not going to listen to you. I’m not going to let you apologize. No, no, no, no, **no**. This is **done** and so am I! _

But instead of that, all Shiro managed was, “Take the fucking hint— we’re over, Adam. Go home.”

“Takashi—” Adam yelled through the door. “This isn’t funny!” 

Shiro laughed, breathless and hysterical and _exhilarated_. His head was spinning, his body felt as though it were about to lift right up off the ground, but the only thing that kept his feet firmly planted was the fact that he could hear the tell-tale scrape of a key sliding into the door.

Shiro reached up for the second and third locks, quickly slamming them closed. Sure, Adam had the keys to the first lock, but definitely didn’t have them for the rest.

Shiro listened as Adam swore, yelling out a, “For fuck’s sake, Shiro!” before something altogether unexpected happened.

It was like a light in the darkness, and Shiro felt a little more than a bit pathetic for feeling his laugh catch in his throat when he heard the muffled sound of, “who the fuck are you?” echo from behind the door.

Keith.

“None of your fucking business.” Adam banged something— maybe the flowers? — against the door, making a softer thump than before. “It’s my fiancé.”

“Sounds like an ex-fiancé to me.” 

Adam’s response was pitched, angry, but Shiro could almost imagine the pained embarrassment on his face. “We’re having a fight—” 

“Then you better leave.” Keith’s voice was cool, calm, and collected. But at that moment his voice pitched lower, and whatever he said was covered up by the sound of Adam hitting the door again. 

“That’s none of your busi—” 

“You’re in my hallway, so you’re _making_ it my business.” 

There was a pause, just for a moment, before Adam hit the door again, jingling the doorknob. 

“Go home, Adam. I don’t want to talk to you—” Shiro managed, though his voice cracked when he heard Adam say his name. It was the way Adam whispered it in his ear when he proposed, the way he begged for another chance over and over again. 

Once upon a time, that would have made Shiro open the door. Instead, Shiro slammed the chain lock at the top of the door and said one more time, “Go away, Adam.” 

Keith didn’t miss a beat. “You heard him, loser. Shiro doesn’t want to see you. He doesn’t _want_ you.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are to tell me what my fiancé does or doesn’t want? Is he paying your twink-ass to protect him? Shiro’s a big boy—he doesn’t need a streetwalker to fight his battles.”

“He said for you to _go_.” 

“Then he can come out here and say it to my _fucking_ face.”

“I fucking thin **not**.”

Shiro laughed one more time, his heart beating so loudly he couldn’t even hear the rest of what Keith said. In fact, from the silence that permeated from behind the door, Shiro thought that Adam had given up and was leaving. 

That was until a loud _crack_ shattered the silence, the door damn-near buckling under the weight of the body that hit into it.

“Think you’re some kind of tough guy, huh? Shiro’s a man. He doesn’t need some dirty, STD-riddled whore trying to save him.”

There was a groan— no, _Keith_ groaned, and Shiro’s hands immediately began scrambling with the locks, quickly undoing them. If Adam so much as laid another finger on Keith, Shiro was going to— going to— 

_ What the fuck am I going to do? _

There wasn’t time to think as a loud crash and a muted half-scream broke Shiro’s pity-party just as he managed to get the chain lock off the door.

What he saw wasn’t what the thought he’d see, that was for sure.

Adam was on his back, cradling his head. There was an ocean of glass, plaster, and flower petals littering the floor and his clothes. A head-sized indent below where one of the ugly paintings once hung told a story of what happened, along with the bits of flower stuck in Adam’s hair. 

Keith was hovering over Adam. His hair and dark clothes were rumpled, face bare of makeup, split bottom lip dribbling blood down his face, but otherwise unharmed. In his hand was the bouquet of ruined flowers, which Keith dropped right on Adam’s head. He wasn’t wearing shoes though, so when Keith went to step over Adam’s whimpering body, he winced and pulled his foot back.

“You okay?” Shiro asked Keith, giving wide-berth to Adam. Now that he wasn’t running, Shiro could smell the liquor and cigarette smoke from what must have been a weekend-long bender. 

“Yeah.” Keith’s sardonic laugh as his tongue flicked against his busted lip made Shiro want to punch Adam once more for good measure. “I’m good. He might not be, though.” 

“He deserves it.” 

Keith gave him a look, one that read ‘clearly’ loud as day, before he winced again. He adjusted his foot, Shiro catching sight of the small puddle of blood and a sliver of glass that caught the light.

“Careful— you’ve got some glass.” 

“Fuck,” Keith lamented as he hobbled his foot back up, hand reaching up to use the wall to right himself. For a moment, Shiro was pretty sure Keith was going to kick Adam one more time for good measure (not like Shiro would blame him, either) but he thought best of it and instead looked toward Shiro.

Shiro didn’t need to be told what to do; it was almost instinctual, grabbing hold of Keith’s hips (god, he had a tight core) as he lifted him up over the glass, sweeping Keith into a bridal-style hold. He was heavier than Shiro had originally thought he’d be— probably from all the muscle— but he wasn’t a problem for Shiro. 

Putting Keith on the old blue, sagging couch, he managed a soft smile before turning back to the door and Adam, who was coming around. 

Maybe it was Keith who gave him the confidence and righteous anger, but Shiro looked down at Adam and his bloody nose for just a moment before reaching for the handle of the door and the key he’d given to Adam months before. 

It took a second to pull the key from the keyring and yeah, it was petty, but the sound of the other keys smacking into Adam’s chest when he lobbed them at his drunk ex made it worth it. 

“Go home and sober up. You can leave my Nexstar at the university in the morning.” 

“Shiro—Baby. _Please_.” 

“If you’re not gone in thirty seconds, I’m calling the cops.” Then, with one last look, Shiro said, “Goodbye, Adam,” as he closed the door, making sure to deadbolt all three locks and the chain lock for good measure. 

Resting his head on the door for just a moment, saying goodbye to what once was, Shiro took in a deep breath before turning back to Keith. “Looks like you decided to be the hero today, huh?” Shiro quipped, hoping his voice didn’t shake. 

Keith smiled through his busted lip. “Hey, sometimes the damsel in distress can handle their own, y’know. Haven’t you seen Hercules?” 

Shiro smiled as he got down on one knee, gently lifting up Keith’s foot. There was a definitely a piece of glass lodged in there. “It’s one of my favorites.” 

“Me, too.” 

Shiro picked at the glass with his nail for only a moment, noting how stuck it was as Keith winced, pulling his foot back.

“It’s in there pretty good. Wait here— I’ve got a first-aid kit and some tweezers,” Shiro promised as he pat the top of Keith’s foot, noting the pale mint green pedicure. For some reason, it looked good— real good— on his dainty little toes.

Keith nodded as he pushed up his sleeves, adjusting his foot onto his knee. “So, that’s the ex-fiance?” 

Shiro nodded once as he pushed himself off the floor. “Unfortunately so. He, uh… he cheated.” 

“Yeah, sounded like it.” Keith paused for a moment before saying, “I don’t feel bad about hitting him in the face with those flowers, then. Or throwing him into the wall. God, you probably think I’m some violent creep—” 

“No,” Shiro admitted. “I don't think that at all, Keith. Thank you.” 

“But, I—” 

“I mean it,” Shiro interrupted, leaning down to brush some of the blood from Keith’s chin. He didn’t know why it felt so right, but it _did_. “Thank you.” 

“Then… you’re welcome.” Keith stared up at him with those too-blue eyes, a touch of color tinting his cheeks. 

“Now… about that foot…” 


	5. Chapter 5

It didn’t take long to patch up Keith’s foot, though Shiro honestly wished it could have lasted for much, much longer. Maybe it was the way his toes wiggled or the candor of Keith’s voice when he told Shiro that working on a fucked foot would do no good at all.

It was the first time Keith had said anything about his job, just a small comment about how walking on his foot was going to be damn-near impossible, and Shiro couldn’t help but feel his ears heat up. 

“Well, uh… maybe you should take a few days off. Until, you know, you can get back on your feet.” 

“It’s gunna be a crazy few days— with President’s Day on Monday, this weekend’s just going to kill me.” Keith breathed in a little fast, making Shiro pull his hand back.

“S— sorry,” Shiro stuttered, internally punching himself in the head. “Too tight?” 

“Just a bit.” 

Shiro unrolled the bandage, making sure that it was a little more lax before continuing. “I, uh… didn’t know it got that busy, but I guess it makes sense.” 

Keith snorted. “You’ve got no idea. It’s basically hell on earth. It’s dirty and loud, and I’m gunna be side-stepping puke for the next three days.” 

Shiro grimaced, making Keith laugh.

“Yeah, but I guess that’s every weekend, right?” 

“Good point.” 

Shiro watched as Keith wiggled his toes in the bandage before saying, almost too soft for Keith to hear, “But… maybe, maybe it’s better for you to take today and tomorrow off. Rest and relax, so that when Saturday gets here you’re able to work like normal. I mean— if you can,” Shiro quickly added. “I, uh, don’t know if you can even call out from work with what you do.” 

Keith bit down on his bottom lip for a moment before saying, “I can. It’s just… not recommended. I think my boss might kill me…” 

Shiro swallowed, hard. “Then maybe you, uh… maybe you shouldn’t.” 

Keith slowly pulled his foot back, flexing his toes as wide as he could. There was clearly pain and frustration on his face before Keith sighed. “Yep. I’ll have to call my coworker, switch one of my shifts with hers. I’m gunna be so fucked. So, so fucked. More than my usual level of fucked.” 

Shiro tried to cough to cover up his shocked splutter, but from the way Keith snickered, Shiro knew he failed. 

“Hey! You know how this town works— we’re all being fucked in one way or another,” Keith laughed. 

There was something refreshing to how honest Keith was about his job, how he wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed. It was just work, after all, and Shiro could definitely appreciate how unbothered Keith was with talking about it. 

When he said as much to Keith, the response he got was a shrug and a, “We all gotta pay our bills,” before Keith adjusted himself on the couch, pulling a crushed-up paper from underneath him. “Huh— what’s this?” 

“Oh, uh— my thesis. You probably don’t want to read it— it really sucks.” 

“Oh, c’mon, it can’t really be _that_ bad,” Keith replied as he flipped through the table of contents, eyes going wide when he saw just how much red was on the paper. “Oh.” 

“I, uh… I’ve never been all that great with writing the reports, to be honest with you,” Shiro admitted as he watched Keith’s eyes scan over the first page, watching with trepidation as he flipped to the next page. “I can speak English fine, but writing’s always been a bit harder.”

Keith looked up from the paper, eyes widening. “Wait— what?”

“I grew up in Tokyo,” Shiro admitted, picking at his pants. “I didn’t move to California until after I started school, and though I mostly got rid of the accent, but the writing is really difficult… sometimes the letters look the same, y’know?” 

But from Keith’s furrowed brow as he continued to look over the thesis, there was clearly something else.

“It’s— it’s really not that big of a deal,” Shiro said, hoping that Keith wouldn’t pick up on the panic in his voice. This was why he didn’t really like to let others read his thesis. “I’m just gunna get my roommate to look it over. He can usually make sense of it enough to give me some pointers— Keith, what’re you doing?” 

Keith had quickly hobbled to his good foot before slowly lowering himself down to the floor, careful not to bust his foot on the couch, table, or one of the precariously-placed piles of books. He laid the thesis flat on the table, brushing out a few of the wrinkles, before he looked back up at Shiro.

“Well, you have a pen, or am I gunna just sit here looking pretty?” 

“Keith, you don’t have to do that—” 

“Who say anything about me _needing_ to do anything?” Keith countered. “What I’m saying is that I’m happy to read over your thesis, and in exchange, maybe you could make us something to eat?”

“Oh. Um…” 

Keith’s smile broke, just for a moment, as he added, “I mean— if you want. I don’t want to be prying or overstaying my welcome…” 

“It’s not that!” Shiro blurted out immediately. “It’s, um, it’s more that I can’t… you know, cook. Unless you want some ramen or mac and cheese. That’s basically all I know how to make.” Shiro paused for a moment before saying, “Unless, you know, you like pizza. Because I like pizza…” 

Keith grabbed hold of one of the blue pens on the table, nibbling on the bottom for a wholly-inappropriate moment, before nodding his head.

“Pizza sounds like a fair trade for my services.” 

“Oh, okay,” Shiro said faintly, feeling the blood rush to his dick. “Yeah. Pizza. For services. Okay.” 

“You okay?”

Shiro nodded, praying that Keith didn’t look down. 

“All good. Uh… toppings?”

Keith winked—fucking _winked_. “I like meat.” 

Shiro’s voice broke as he parroted back Keith’s answer, but hearing his snickering laugh was totally worth it. 

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

The pizza was great, but the company was even better. Keith wasn’t just fierce with his fists, but he was stupidly smart, too. 

Every time Shiro explained to him some bit of information regarding his thesis on black holes, he expected the information to kind of go straight over Keith’s head, but it didn’t. He was like a sponge, sucking up everything Shiro shared, countering with questions that Shiro hadn’t even really thought about. 

“So, you’re saying there are two supermassive blackholes about to just… run into each other?” 

“Well, technically, they ran into each other 2.5 billion years ago, and we’re only now about to see what exactly happened, but… yup.” 

“And you think that it’s possible that due to this, you may be able to gather enough data to figure out what is happening to the data that falls into them?” 

“More like we want to look _between_ the supermassive black holes. They’re not going to collide like—like—” Shiro paused, staring at Keith’s bemused face. A thought came to Shiro’s mind then, and he reached over to grab hold of two garlic knots. “Okay, it’s like this…” 

“You’re going to teach me about black holes with garlic knots?” Keith asked, voice incredulous. 

Shiro laughed as he held out the garlic knots, one in each hand. “Well, yeah? I mean, gotta have them bang each other and all.” 

Realizing his words, Shiro tried to hide his splutter and blush, though Keith certainly got a good laugh out of it. 

“Well, okay. Uh. Um. Yeah, well…. You see these two, uh, knots…they’re not going to smack right into each other like this.” Shiro demonstrated the two pieces of bread colliding, head-first like a car accident. He tried to stop himself from laughing at the intent way Keith was watching him, the faint feeling of blood rushing through his head making him feel a little light-headed and fuzzy. 

“Then what are they gunna do?” 

Shiro brought the two garlic knots close, letting them slowly orbit around one another. 

“And you want to see the information between them?” 

“Yep. We call it the final parsec problem, but I see it more of a… solution, I guess. I think that we’ll find out what happens to gravity itself between these two supermassive black holes.” Shiro’s hands stopped and, with a shrug, he tossed one of the garlic knots into the air. “But it’s really hard to do, and even harder to get funding for. Dr. Holt, my professor, thinks that this research could be the future of physics as we kno—hey! That’s a supermassive black hole!” 

But Keith, who had grabbed one of the garlic knots right out of Shiro’s hand, instead took a big bite before shoving the rest in Shiro’s open mouth. 

To some, this move would have been far too personal, far too fast, but for Shiro, it felt… normal. It felt right. It felt… it felt good.

It was almost as though Shiro and Keith knew each other for much longer than they really had, and it was almost bizarre to imagine that Shiro had been pining silently over the next door neighbor for weeks and hadn’t been able to pluck up the courage to ask Keith to hang out like this before.

Still, better late than never, that was for sure.

They continued talking and eating, laughing and enjoying each other’s presence until well-past seven and long after Keith had finished editing up Shiro’s paper. Shiro didn’t want Keith to leave, wanted to keep him there with him for longer, but…

“Honey, I’m ho—dude, unlock this dumb door!” 

Shiro hadn’t even heard Matt trying to get in, and while he had all three keys, the chain was still there, barring his way in. 

“Crap.” 

“Roommate?” Keith asked, damn-near burying his face into Shiro’s notes. Just a moment before they’d been debating the merits and demerits of all-you-can-eat buffets, but now that was gone. 

“Uh, yeah. That’s Matt, my best friend. Hold on—” 

But Keith was already stumbling to his feet, careful to not put too much weight on his cut foot. “No, no—it’s probably better if I go, anyway. We finished up with your essay, and I should call my coworker to see if she can cover my shift. If not… lot of angry people.” 

Shiro wanted to ask more about that, figure out if Keith needed more protection considering everything, but… 

“Lemme innnnnnn!” 

“Fine, fine! I’m coming,” Shiro yelled as he turned away from Keith to get the front door, slamming it shut long enough to undo the sliding chain lock.

“That hurt, you know!” Matt yelled as the door swung open. “Dude, there’s a hole in the wall. Looks like one of those ‘customers’ got pissed off with the who—” Matt barely managed to stop himself, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

Shiro had known Matt since they were kids, had been best friends for years, but it still shocked Shiro on occasion at just how _dumb_ his best friend could be.” 

“Um. Er. Hi?” Matt didn’t reach out to shake Keith’s hand, because that would have just added more to the awkwardness. Instead, he laughed in that peculiar panic-inducing way he’d long ago mastered, and wiggled his fingers in Keith’s direction. “You’re uh, not the uh, uh, uh—horrible guy in 28B?” 

Shiro would have winced if he wasn’t trying to glare daggers straight into Matt’s head. 

Matt glanced up, tried to smile (but it ended up far more as a grimace) but Keith just blinked. 

“You mean Slav? The guy with the cats? Smells like fried cheese?” 

Shiro frowned at Matt, whose laughing only seemed to escalate. “Ehehehe, yeah! Clearly you’re, uh, not him! You must be, um…” 

“Keith.” 

“Yeah! Keith. 24B, right?” 

Shiro wanted to open the door back up and throw Matt back out, partially for his stuttering mess of a self, and the other was because Keith smiled genially and Shiro didn’t _want_ Keith to smile like that at Matt. 

“The one and only.” 

There was an awkward pause as Keith leaned up against Shiro for a moment as he adjusted his footing, and Shiro had to damn-near send laser-eyes at Matt to keep him from opening his big, fat mouth. 

“Anyway—I was, I should just be going.” Keith gently pat Shiro on the shoulder and then quickly leaned down to grab that sinful pen he’d nibbled on. Keith paused then for a moment before letting out a little sigh, and grabbed hold of Shiro’s hand. 

Shiro shivered as Keith slipped open his hand, pressing the tip of the blue pen against his skin. Dragging the pen against his skin, Shiro wasn’t sure he breathed until Keith was finished. Then, in an act that should have been illegal, Keith lifted Shiro’s hand to his mouth and _blew_ , before pressing the pen into his open palm.

“If that crazy ex of yours shows up, Hero,” Keith added, voice almost… shy? “Or, you know… if you want me to look over your next draft. Or… whatever.”

“Whatever?” Shiro parroted back. 

“Y—yeah. Or whatever.” The way Keith licked his lips made Shiro want to kiss him, but he resisted the urge—barely. 

Keith left the apartment, avoiding the mess Adam had made earlier and leaving both Shiro and Matt staring at him as he closed the door behind him.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to tap that.” 

Shiro didn’t say anything for a moment, which was probably more of an answer than any words would’ve been, anyway.

“You can’t—” 

“I’m going to marry that man,” Shiro blurted out, staring down at the smudged pen on his hand. “I’m gunna marry that man, Matt.” 

Matt promptly took Shiro’s hand, pen and all, and smacked Shiro in the head with it. Still, no matter what Matt said or did, the big, dopey smile split across Shiro’s mouth stayed just where it belonged.


	7. Chapter 7

Thankfully, from the texts that Keith sent to him after he’d gotten home, he’d been able to switch shifts with one of his coworkers, at least until his foot had healed up. 

Shiro was relieved— the thought of Keith having to walk or, god forbid, _dance_ , on his foot made Shiro wince. No, it was definitely better for Keith to take a few days off. 

And that was the last time Keith brought up work, and part of Shiro was both relieved and a little… disappointed? 

Of course, it wasn’t any of his damn business and really, the thought of Keith coming out and flat-out telling Shiro what his job actually was made him more than a little uncomfortable, but he liked Keith— liked him more than he had any right to, really. 

He didn’t want Keith to be embarrassed or ashamed— not with him, anyway. 

Sex work was still work, and all that. 

Still, even though Keith didn’t open up about his job, they seemed to talk about everything else under the sun. 

Movies, music, their mutual lack of interest in sports, but their equal infatuation with motorcycles and muscle cars— talking to Keith was like talking to an extension of himself that he never knew was missing, but now that he was there, Shiro couldn’t imagine living without him. 

They had pizza more times than was likely healthy under the guise of Keith helping him with his papers. Though the closest they’d come to touching were their knees knocking into one another as they sat down on the floor, their hands ghosting as Keith passed him his paper, their shoulders bumping when Shiro reached over to grab another slice, every touch sent a jolt down into Shiro’s stomach. 

It wasn’t fair for Keith to be this perfect. 

It really _wasn’t_. 

Things were just easier when Keith was around.

A few days after the showdown between Keith, Adam, and the wall outside of his apartment (which Slav had screeched about until maintenance showed up to plaster it over) Shiro finally got his Nexstar back. 

Thankfully, Adam hadn’t trashed it like Shiro had half-expected, and so he’d extended an invitation later on that evening as he and Keith polished off an entire bucket of KFC, for them to go out the next night to see the stars with him.

The invitation felt like a date, and when Keith had cocked one of his perfectly-plucked eyebrows at him, Shiro had spluttered and panicked and likely turned ten different shades of red and pink. 

That only made Keith smile wider.

“Wish I could, Hero,” Keith said after a moment, licking his greasy finger with a level of nonchalance that Shiro couldn’t help but envy, “but I’ve got to work tomorrow. I switched with a friend of mine for taking care of me when I was out of commission. And, anyway, Saturdays are always busy.” 

Shiro responded by nodding his head and apologizing for being so presumptuous, but Keith only winked at him before stealing the last drumstick right out of Shiro’s hand. His hand lingered for just a brief moment, as though he were afraid that touching Shiro would somehow break the magic between them. 

“Next time. Promise. How… how about Sunday?”

“You sure?” 

Keith smiled, taking a bite of his stolen chicken. “Absolutely.” 

Shiro believed him. 

That night, when Keith was leaving, Shiro wrapped his arms around Keith. It was barely a hug, barely anything at all, but…

Keith hugged back. Warm breath on Shiro’s shoulder as Keith got on his tip-toes so he could rest his chin on the junction between his neck and his t-shirt nearly drove Shiro insane.

He thought about kissing Keith in that moment, about falling into that sweet embrace and never trying to escape, but he managed to pull himself back at the last minute. 

Still, Keith declining Shiro’s offer was why, on a late Saturday afternoon, Shiro was stuck in the “Happiest Place on Earth” with Matt and Pidge steering him through the gaggle of sunburned kids, bored teenagers playing on their phones, and exhausted parents barely holding their shit together. 

It was somewhat of a tradition for the Holt family to drag him off to Disney; they were proud Annual pass-holders, and had bought him one every year since Matt had dragged him there the first time. 

They hadn’t really gone much since Shiro and Matt had graduated from high school, but Pidge wanted to gawk at Lance in his Peter Pan costume and meet up with a few friends of hers who were castmates, and Shiro was nothing if not accommodating to the girl who was basically his little sister. 

Still, Disneyland on a Saturday was, in a word, _taxing_. 

Despite this fact, Shiro was more than happy to tag along, especially when he got to gorge himself on Dole Whip until his tongue went numb and he could barely talk. 

Simple pleasures.

Still, Shiro could admit that it was definitely too hot to spend much more than a day outside, and he was incredibly thankful that he’d never applied to work for the Big Mouse for extra cash. With his luck, he would have been relegated to running around in an enormous Eeyore costume in 110 degree weather. 

Still, Shiro couldn’t help but pull out his phone during his day, waiting for Keith to text him back. He knew that Keith had to work, but he’d promised to text on his break…

And the first text Shiro got had made Shiro’s mouth drop and his pants go tight. 

It was just a photo— barely anything at all, really. Nothing that anyone would have thought was in any way dirty or NSFW. Most people would have considered it a little naughty, maybe even a touch risque, but for Shiro it may as well have been straight-up porn. 

It was just Keith— or, rather, part of Keith. 

Magenta lips looked as though they were about his kiss his shoulder, hair brushed like a kiss against his collarbone and his cheeks, and a purple strap slipping down his arm. Shiro couldn’t see Keith’s eyes, but he sure as hell could imagine them.

Shiro texted him just one word— 

Beautiful.

Pidge looked at him weirdly, waved her completely and totally unnecessary map in front of Shiro, before Matt grabbed his phone and groaned. 

“No, no, _no_. Shiro, you gotta stop this.” 

“Stop what?” Pidge asked as she made a grabby hand at Matt. “Lemme see.” 

“You, little sister, definitely don’t need to see anything,” Matt replied as he pressed Shiro’s phone against his chest. It reminded Shiro of one of those Southern Baptist women clutching her pearls as she fainted. “Especially not _this_.” 

But Pidge was Pidge, and she managed to get Shiro’s phone out of his hands through sheer power of force and a rather well-deserved kick to the shin. 

“Ahaha,” Pidge cackled as she looked at the picture. “This isn’t even that _scandalous_ , Matt. What’s got your panties in a twist?” 

“You don’t know who it is.” 

“Stop being so goddamn _judgy_ , bro. Whoever Shiro’s interested in isn’t any of your damn businesss— isn’t that right, Shiro?” 

“Very right.”

Honestly, Shiro loved Matt— he really did. But Matt didn’t know Keith. He barely said more than half a dozen words to the man since Keith had started visiting Shiro in earnest, and each time he made as awkward of an exit as humanly possible. Whether it was to annoy Shiro or because he just didn’t know how to behave like a human being, Shiro wasn’t sure.

“Look— it isn’t because of his job,” Matt started, but Shiro snatched his phone back from Pidge. 

“You never treated Adam like this, and _he_ cheated on me.” 

“I didn’t know he was gunna cheat on you.” 

While that was true, Keith had done absolutely nothing to garner the condemnation from Matt. 

“Dude. I’m just looking out for you. I don’t want you getting involved with someone like him.” 

“ _Someone like him_ ,” Shiro parroted back. “So it’s okay for me to date a sleazeball, but the moment I date someone whose job you don’t like—” 

“Jeez, is he like a puppy killer or something?” Pidge asked, but Shiro tried his best to ignore Matt in that moment. He’d gotten a text from Keith at that very moment. 

It was a pikachu face. 

_? _

Shiro hit send. 

“No,” Matt yelled, exasperated. “He’s not a puppy killer.” 

“Then what is he?” Pidge replied, looking between Matt and Shiro. “Why do you have so much of a hate boner for this guy?”

_ Turn around. _

Shiro blinked down at the message. Turn around? What kind of message was that? 

“Shiro’s trying to get with our neighbor—” 

“Slav? The guy who eats off plates covered in plastic wrap?” 

Shiro grimaced. “No. Keith. And I told you, Matt— I don’t care what job he has. I’m gunna marry that man.” 

“Keith?” Pidge’s brows furrowed. “Wait— do you mean—” 

“You don’t know him,” Matt replied just as Shiro felt arms wrap around his waist. “The one in 24B. The hooker.” 

“Say _what_.”

Shiro knew that voice. He knew that soft voice, that hint of fire, that touch of _hurt_. The hands around him stilled and every last thought Shiro had in his head disappeared because _oh_ fuck. 

“I’m a what.” 

It wasn’t a question.

Shiro slowly, so slowly, turned around to see Keith. 

Keith looked like a goddess in one of those greek mythology paintings— it was his hair, in his cat-eye makeup, his bright magenta lipstick, in the fury in his eyes that looked as though it would burn without so much as blinking. 

Except. 

It was _Meg_.

“Holy shit.” 

“Keith?” 

Pidge cackled. “This is the big, dopey himbo you’ve been going on and on about?!” 

Shiro tried to not move, not breathe, not so much as _twitch_ , as Keith stared at him. 

“You thought I was a hooker.” 

Shiro swallowed. 

Hard. 

“You thought I was a hooker.” 

“I— you— _daddies_ ,” was all Shiro managed to say. 

Keith tilted his head to the side. “What?” 

“W— when we first met. You— you said daddies followed you home. I— I mean— Meg?” 

Keith blinked.

He blinked again.

“Usually I’m Jasmine,” was Keith’s response.

The turquoise makeup, the cute green toenail polish. The Disney trail mix. Daddies.

Literal daddies.

“I don’t— I didn’t care what you did. I just— I liked _you_.”

Pidge only laughed harder. 

For a moment which lengthened into what felt like an absolute _eternity_ , Keith merely _stared_ at Shiro. It felt as though the world could have died in that exact moment. Everything around them fell into a haunting silence that left Shiro unable to focus on anything but the blood pumping in his ears and the feeling of Keith’s hands around his waist. 

Keith’s nostrils flared before he tightened his grip on Shiro’s waist.

“Well… you’re right on one thing. I am getting fucked at my job,” Keith deadpanned. “I’m getting fucked by the Big Mouse.” 

“I—“

“I’ll deal with _you_ later,” Keith snarled at Matt, who absolutely _withered_ under his gaze.

Shiro very, very much wished he could just melt into the asphalt, never to be seen again. 

He wasn’t lucky enough for that, though. 

“Shiro, come with me?” 

What was Shiro to do? He could run, run as fast and as far as his legs could take him, but when he got home… was he going to have to move out of his apartment? Seeing Keith even in the hallway would probably lead to Shiro wanting to crawl into a ball and die. 

Oh, god. 

He’d taken this all so very, very wrong. 

So wrong. 

“Shiro?” There was a softness that Keith didn’t expect to come out of Keith’s mouth after he’d shown just how much of a stupid food Shiro _really_ was. 

Shiro licked his lips, keeping his gaze on Keith.

He wanted to say no, wanted to hide for the rest of his life, but there was something in Keith’s eyes that made Shiro follow him through the throngs of people, ducking into a door Shiro had thought was just one of the many, many props in Disneyland. 

The moment the door closed, the light overhead clicked on. The hallway was barren of any other cast member, leaving the two in the striking silence. 

“I’m sorry, Keith. I’m so so—” 

“Stop,” Keith interrupted. “Just _stop_.” 

Shiro barely had a moment to compose himself before Keith was wrapping his arms around him, pulling him in for a kiss. It was anger and passion and a thousand emotions rippling like a fire. It was hot, burning, _painful_ , but Shiro let himself fall into the kiss, even as Keith’s fingers gripped his hair and tugged. 

When they pulled apart, Keith _laughed_. 

“Wh— what’s that for?” 

“You said you wanted to marry me,” Keith replied, breathless. His magenta lipstick was smeared across his mouth, covering even his chin, but Keith didn’t seem to care. “What’d you expect?” 

“You to break my face,” Shiro replied honestly. 

“I can do that if you want me to. Do you want me to?” 

Shiro paused. “... no.” 

“Then shut up and kiss me.” 

Shiro looked into Keith’s too-blue eyes.

“Gladly.” 


End file.
